


A Spark in a Sea of Gray

by taylordswift



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Hospital AU, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Smut, does NOT depict love is the cure for depression, in which lexa is in a mental hospital and clarke is a nurse, trigger warning: self harm mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:18:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylordswift/pseuds/taylordswift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa is committed into a mental hospital by her homophobic father, Titty (I mean, Titus). Clarke is a (super hot) nurse. Romance inevitably ensues. (Along with lots of pining, smut, and angst).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: self harm mention
> 
> savagesacrifices.tumblr.com

The room was so white it hurt Lexa's eyes, but she couldn't remember how to close them. Her head felt heavy – made of stone – as it rested on the pillow. A flickering light shone above her that would have made her groan, but she couldn't muster a sound. There was a scent of rubbing alcohol in the air that burned at her nose. _Fuck_. Even her thoughts felt heavy, slow, and dragged. Her eyes tried to focus on her surroundings, but all the shapes in front of her blurred together to form frightening images – monsters and shadows. She didn’t feel afraid. 

"Good morning," a voice slipped gently into Lexa's ears, and she found herself sighing at the undeniable sweetness in it. It was rough and husky, but sweet nonetheless. "Do you know where you are, Alexandra?" She recognized her own name, her green eyes adjusting just enough to find a blonde-haired woman dressed in light blue scrubs. Lexa managed to shake her head at the question, though it took her an embarrassingly long time to complete the simple task. The woman before her bit her lower lip and looked down at a clipboard she was holding, trying not to smile at her clearly drugged up patient. Lexa’s cheeks flushed pink, as she realized her brunette locks were more likely than not a mussed mess of brown tangled knots. The blonde didn’t seem to notice her embarrassment, however, as she was too busy frowning down at her clipboard. For this, Lexa felt grateful.

"This is the Mount Weather Mental Hospital," the woman finally explained softly. Lexa's brow furrowed in confusion – almost in offense. "It says here you were transferred in last night from St. Jaha General Hospital." Lexa's confusion only grew and the blonde could see it. "Their psych department transferred you to us last night.”

“I…,” Lexa attempted to speak, but her voice caught up in her throat, and she could only muster out a croak of a sound. “I’m…,” she tried again, but stopped when the woman in scrubs stepped closer to her, placing a hand on her arm. Lexa’s gaze fell to the blonde’s pale hand, watching how her thumb stroked her skin softly. Her eyes followed further down to her own hand, which she found was wrapped up at the wrist in a bandage.

“It’s okay. Just rest. The doctor will be with you shortly," the woman spoke, bringing Lexa’s attention back to her. It was only then that she finally got a proper view of her. Blonde locks cascaded gracefully a couple inches past her shoulders. Her lips curled up into a friendly smile, a glossy pink, and her blue eyes felt dangerously inviting.   _Aren't you the doctor?_ Lexa wondered, as she eyed her curiously.

"Oh, I'm just a nurse," the woman replied as if she’d heard her. Had Lexa spoken aloud? She wasn’t entirely sure. "Clarke," she added. _Clarke_. She repeated the monosyllable in her mind several times, as if afraid it’d slip her mind and she’d forget it.

The door to the white room opened and in came a man whom Lexa immediately recognized. She let out a soft groan that was only heard by Clarke, who eyed the pair suspiciously.

“Mr. Woods,” Clarke greeted him.

“Call me Titus,” he said, shaking her hand, but not even bothering to meet her eyes. “Lexa,” the man’s voice boomed. Clarke saw Lexa’s pleading eyes, but still stepped back – though rather hesitantly – to give them some room.

“Dad,” Lexa replied, pushing herself up on her elbows to sit up. She could tell whatever drug she’d been on had begun to wear off.

“How are you feeling?” He pulled a seat up close to her bed, taking the place where Clarke had stood just moments ago.

“I’m fine.” Her voice came out exasperated and annoyed. “Can we go home?”

“Come on, Lexa,” Titus groaned. “I had to pull some strings to even get you here in the first place and you already want to leave.” He chuckled to himself, though Lexa found no humor in his words.

_Pull some strings._ She knew what that meant. She wondered if those people who always wish they had more money, knew exactly how imprisoning it could actually be. It’s how her dad had managed to keep her in all the private schools, after school lessons, and the plethora of national law honor societies for which she didn’t even properly qualify. He’d used money, since she’d been born, to mold her into what he believed was the perfect daughter. An improved version of himself. A future lawyer to take over his firm. A future wife of a man with deep enough pockets.

There were only two problems with that otherwise seemingly flawless plan. One: Lexa’s interest in laws began and ended with the cinematic masterpiece that was _Legally Blonde_ (and even then she’d hardly admit it). And two: Lexa was incredibly and undeniably gay.

“You’re going to be staying here for a while, Lexa,” He spoke again, his voice deepening in seriousness, as he reached out to grab his daughter’s hand. She snapped it away before he could touch her.

“What? Why?” There was an undeniable panic in her voice that flushed her face red in embarrassment. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Clarke looking down at her feet uncomfortably. “I’m – I’m fine.”

“Lexa,” he whispered harshly, his eyes growing darker, as he leaned forward. His hand found Lexa’s wrist and this time she wasn’t fast enough to snap it away. His fingers gripped at her and she winced in pain, but said nothing. “You are not _fine_. You’re _sick_ ,” he spat out in whispers so Clarke wouldn’t hear. If she did, she didn’t let it be known. All of the comfort drained from his eyes, and Lexa was forced to face a familiar glare. 

Lexa scoffed, but there were tears already welling up in her eyes. “Why? Because I like _girls_?” Her voice was loud, mocking, and this time she was sure Clarke could hear. The blonde snapped her head up at this, before blushing and turning back down to find something to do.

“Shut up,” her dad hissed quietly, tightening the grip on her hand. Lexa didn’t reply – only stared back, almost challenging him. After a few moments, he sighed, and let her go. “I love you, Lexa,” he said, his voice back to a normal volume. “This will be good for you. I know you don’t see it now, but you will.” Lexa rolled her eyes. “I’m your father and it’s my job to take care of you.”

Before Lexa could argue, the door opened once more. A man with a white coat and an even whiter smile stepped in. Lexa watched as Clarke handed over the clipboard she’d been staring at for the past ten minutes.

“Good morning,” the doctor spoke, which Titus took as his cue to leave.

“I have to go meet a client,” he said to no one in particular, as he got up from Lexa’s bedside. “Good to see you again, Doctor,” he said quickly, then turned to face his daughter one last time. “Behave.” That was the last word he said to her, before rushing out. Clarke followed behind him, and Lexa’s eyes followed her blonde locks until the door closed between them.

The doctor's name was Lincoln and he spoke softly, patiently, explaining to Lexa that she had to stay at Mount Weather until it was clear that she was not a danger to herself.

“I’m over eighteen,” Lexa argued. “Can’t I just leave whenever I want?”

“Uh – not exactly.” Lincoln took a seat next to Lexa’s bed, so that they could be eye to eye. “Your father’s gotten a court order stating that because you’re currently in a state of mind which may result in self-injury, you must be hospitalized.” _Ugh, fuck._ “Not permanently, of course,” he added with a kind smile upon seeing the panic that flashed across her eyes.

“How long?”

“That depends on you and your willingness to commit to the treatment plan we’ve set for you.” He shuffled through the papers on the clipboard, before handing Lexa a copy of her schedule.

Every morning, she’d take an anti-depressant called Lexapro, which she found terribly ironic, along with her breakfast at 8 AM sharp. She’d have a free hour in the common area, where she could visit with other patients, watch television, or play games. At 10 AM, she’d have a 50-minute-long session with Dr. Lincoln. She’d be free again until noon, when lunch would be served. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, she’d have group therapy sessions at 2 PM. The rest of her time would be free until 6 PM when dinner would be served. Lights out at 9:30 PM.

“The institute offers a vast number of workshops you can take to fill up your free time,” Lincoln explained. “We encourage you to stay active and busy, especially during the first weeks of your stay.” Lexa didn’t do much else, but nod as Dr. Lincoln assured her that she would fit in well here – to which Lexa almost took offense, but let it go, too tired to argue.

* * *

 

She was moved into a smaller room, which contained a twin sized bed, a tiny drawer, a laundry hamper, a toilet, a sink, and a barred window. She didn’t know what the drawer was for, since she didn’t even have her own clothes with her. Apparently, every morning, a clean pair of patient’s uniform would be placed inside her room via the small opening at the bottom of the door. She assumed such slot could easily be used for sliding in food trays, if the need arose.

Sighing in defeat, she fell onto the bed. Because she lay sideways, her feet dangled off the edge. Her eyes followed the cracks on the ceiling, until she was met with a bright, incandescent light. She winced, but forced her eyes to stay open until it hurt.

“Lexa?”

She sat upright, rubbing her eyes, trying to see who was at her door, but all she saw was spots.

“Are you adjusting okay?” The person spoke again, and though her eyes began to function normally again, she didn’t need them anymore to know that it was Clarke. She shrugged.

“It’s almost lunchtime, but we can sneak in a quick tour of the hospital,” the blonde smiled, her grin so cheerful and innocent. “If you want.”

“Sure,” was all Lexa replied.

They walked through corridors and hallways, into common rooms and out to the gardens, as Clarke went on and on about how wonderful each stop was. Lexa wondered if the blonde knew that she didn’t have to try so hard to make Lexa like it – it’s not like she had a choice in her stay anyway.

“Do you play any sports?” Clarke asked as they reached a courtyard. A few patients dribbled a ball around, and Lexa stared at the way their shadows moved.

“Not really. I’m more of an indoor person, I guess,” she shrugged. “Books, board games… all that boring stuff.” She gave Clarke half of a smile, but her green eyes only met hers for less than a second, before they glanced back at the basketball match. She hoped the blush across her face could be mistaken as a reaction to the sun. _Why do I keep blushing?_

“That’s fun too,” the blonde commented politely. “I bet I could beat you at chess.” There was such a tender playfulness in her voice that Lexa seemed to really enjoy. She looked back up at her and found her fighting down a smile, her eyes shining a beautiful blue in the sun. _Fuck, she’s so pretty_.

“You’re on.” Lexa smirked coyly, which made Clarke scrunch up her nose in defiance in the most adorable way. They looked at each other for a brief moment, until Lexa assumed Clarke had somehow inevitably felt uncomfortable by the brunette’s stare.

“Come on, lunchtime’s in five,” Clarke urged a bit awkwardly, guiding them back inside. Lexa’s momentary cheerfulness subsided and was replaced by a deep, dark feeling she couldn’t quite name.

* * *

 

The next day was a Tuesday.

She woke up to bright lights shining on her face and a loud buzz that rang throughout the entire facility. Groaning, she rolled around in her covers, burying her head underneath them. The buzzing continued, so she rolled even more. Unfortunately, she wasn’t at all used to sleeping in a bed smaller than a queen size, so she met the floor with a harsh thud. _Fuck._

She got up, her hair a fucking mess, and waddled over towards the bedroom door, the covers still wrapped around her body. On the floor she found the clothes she’d wear for the day. They were a size too big.

She slipped out of her night clothes and into the pale blue uniform. She washed her face, peed, and brushed her teeth. There wasn’t a mirror in the room, but she knew she looked a mess. She matted down her wild her as best she could, and stepped outside.

The clean floor squeaked as identical pairs of white sneakers walked the halls. She placed her hands in her pockets and followed the crowd into the dining hall. At the entrance, there were several nurses lined up, each with a clipboard in their hand. The patients lined up and one by one, they were let inside.

When it came to Lexa’s turn, the nurse in front of her eyed her suspiciously.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” She nodded. “Last name?”

“Woods.” The nurse looked through her clipboard until she found her.

“Woods, Woods, Woods, Woods…. Lexa?” She nodded once again. The nurse checked her name off, before handing her a small paper cup. Inside was a tiny white pill. “Here you go, Ms. Woods.”

* * *

 

The dining hall was enormous. There were round tables throughout, and the room was full of incessant chatter that Lexa found incredibly annoying. She stood in yet another line to get her tray of food, and then found a table near a window. It was large, but barred. Still, she could look outside at the courtyard where she’d been with Clarke the day before. She sighed, before turning away. There were two other patients at her table, but they seemed to involved in their own conversation to notice when she sat down.

Looking down at her tray, she poked at her scrambled eggs with a plastic fork. Alongside she had a small container of grapes, a piece of toast, and bland cereal (without milk, mind you). She ate the grapes first, then the piece of toast, which was a bad idea because it meant the eggs were gross and cold by the time she got to them. The milk-less cereal would have to do.

“Lexa!” Clarke swooped in suddenly and sat next to her.

“Jesus fuck!” Lexa exclaimed, alarmed at Clarke’s sudden appearance. “You scared me.” Trying to catch her breath, she held her hand close to her chest, feeling how madly her heart fluttered. Having Clarke this close definitely didn’t help the situation.

“Oh, sorry. Do you want me to get you some more?” Clarke asked, pointing at the cereal Lexa had just been eating which was now scattered across the table. She bit her lower lip, eyebrows furrowed in embarrassment and guilt.

“No, it’s okay.” Lexa began picking up the off-brand cheerios one by one and placing them on her tray to throw out later. Clarke helped. “Um, what’s up?” Lexa realized that she felt really nervous.

“Oh, I was gonna ask if you took your medicine this morning,” Clarke explained, deep in concentration as she picked up the cereal. The patient sitting next to Lexa began picking them up as well, and Lexa was about to thank him, until he saw him bring it to his mouth and start eating them. “Jasper!”

“Relax, Clarke,” the guy next to Lexa shrugged. “I’ve eaten worse things.” Clarke rolled her eyes before turning back to Lexa.

“Yeah, I took it before breakfast,” Lexa replied, tossing the last piece of cereal onto her tray.

“Good. Just a heads up, though: the first week on it, you’re gonna feel really drained and exhausted.”

“So, nothing new?” Lexa joked, which made Clarke smile that pretty smile that made Lexa feel like her face was burning up.

“You’ll feel better soon, Lex.” No one had ever called her Lex. She kind of liked it. “I’ll see you around. Jasper, be good.”

“Never,” the boy grinned dumbly, taking the cereal bits out of Lexa’s tray and throwing them into his mouth. 

* * *

 

"Do you know why it is you’re here?" Dr. Lincoln asked her, a clipboard in hand and a pen twirling in the other. Lexa shrugged, but he remained staring at her intently, waiting for a response. His office was really nice, dark, and smelled of mahogany.

"My dad probably wrote out a big, fat check to a judge, so he could keep me in here," She finally said.

“Why would you think he’d do that?” His eyes were soft and caring, and Lexa wondered how much of it was an act and how much of it was genuine.

“He thinks I’m sick.” She gazed down to the wine red carpet on the floor.

“Sick?” She could hear his pen scribble onto the clipboard.

“He thinks that…because I like girls…” She trailed off, feeling as her eyes welled up with tears. She hated that. She hated how easily it was for her to shatter. She lifted her head, looked up at the ceiling fan that spun above them, and wished for her tears to be swept away. Lincoln waited patiently. “He thinks that makes me sick,” She spoke so softly, afraid her voice might break if it got any louder. “He thinks you can fix me.”

Her green eyes met his – if only for a brief moment – before looking back down at the carpet, following its patterns with her gaze.

“Is that what you would like, Lexa?” He asked. “Do you want to not like girls anymore?”

There were darker shades of red spread across the carpet – swirls and circles. She liked them.

“Lexa?”

If she focused hard enough, she could see figures in the patterns – faces and butterflies and monsters. She wondered if they felt trapped.

“Did you hear what I asked, Lex –?” There was a knock at the door and they both looked up. “I’m with a patient.” His voice was stern and annoyed.

“Sorry to interrupt, Doctor.” She recognized Clarke’s voice on the other side of the door. Her heart fluttered inexplicably. “Dr. Pike is here and demands to speak with you immediately.” Lincoln groaned to himself.

“Goddamn it, Clarke. Tell him I’m busy,” he shouted back, angrily. It bothered Lexa in a way she couldn’t find words to describe.

“It’s fine,” she said, standing up from the couch. “I don’t mind.” Lincoln, still sitting in his chair, looked up at her, his eyes soft again. “And no, Doctor, I don’t want to not like girls anymore.”

With that, she walked off, and out of his office. He slumped back into his chair and let her go. She opened the door and nearly crashed into Clarke.

“Lexa,” she greeted her. “I’m so sorry to pull you out of your session.” Lexa simply shook her head, and watched as a suited man walked right past them and into Lincoln’s office. Once the door closed behind him, Clarke added, “Pike’s just a bit… persistent.”

“Who is he?” she wondered out loud.

“He’s the chief psychiatrist,” was all Clarke gave her. She assumed there was a lot more to say about him than that, but she never cared too much for gossip.

“I gather Dr. Lincoln doesn’t like him much?”

“What makes you say that?” she asked in a soft chuckle. They began to walk down the hallway that lead to the common area, Lexa half a step behind.

“He just got very annoyed, I guess.” Lexa shrugged. “It’s weird to see him like that. I mean I’ve just met him, but he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to get pissed off over nothing.”

“You’re spot on, Detective Woods,” Clarke smiled. “There isn’t much that gets under his skin, but interruptions during his sessions and Charles Pike. They usually come hand in hand.”

Lexa found that Clarke’s smile was unbearably contagious. They kept walking together, though the conversation had ended. Around them, patients went about their business rather calmly. It surprised Lexa, as she’d always assume mental institutions were loud and rowdy and terrible. Granted, thanks to her father’s money, she was in a private and well-funded hospital. She could’ve bet there was some sort of admissions board of sorts to get past in order to be accepted – only a certain to degree of craziness allowed.

“Not what you’d expected a mental hospital to be?” Clarke asked, as if reading her thoughts. Lexa shook her head, a bit embarrassed. “That’s okay. There’s a huge stigma around the whole thing.” She shrugged, sliding her hands into her pockets. “Don’t get me wrong, we do have pretty… _intense_ moments, but mostly it’s just calm. Peaceful, even.”

“That’s nice,” she said, looking at Clarke. She seemed so fragile and soft, and Lexa felt strangely relieved that she somehow found such a dark place to be happy. Clarke turned to look at her too, and they stood there silently for a few moments. It wasn’t awkward – at least not for Lexa. She could have stayed in silence forever, it felt like; as long as she was looking into those bright blue eyes.

“So now that you’re free for the next forty minutes,” Clarke said, breaking the silence. “How about that chess match?” She winked at her playfully and Lexa nearly collapsed.

“Aren’t you working?” was the only thing Lexa could think of saying. Clarke furrowed her eyebrows and frowned for a brief moment, before giving Lexa a sly smirk.

“Scared of losing, are we?” she mocked and Lexa actually laughed. She hadn’t laughed in a long time, so even she was taken aback by it.

“No, I just don’t want to get you fired,” she joked, to which Clarke simply rolled her eyes.

“I’m taking my lunch break,” she explained. “So I’m all yours, if you’re up for a match.”

“Lead the way.” She spread her arm out before her, so Clarke would take the lead. She enjoyed being playful with Clarke, but also had zero sense of direction and no clue where the game room was.

* * *

 

“Your move, Clarke,” Lexa said, stretching in her chair. It had been Clarke’s move for the last three minutes. The blonde didn’t reply, just stared intently at the board, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Clarke’s tongue slightly stuck out between her lips occasionally, which made Lexa smile to herself. _Is she always this adorable?_ Once the match had gotten serious, she had pulled up her blonde locks into a messy ponytail. A few strands of hair still fell over her forehead, though, so she had to blow air up whenever they covered her eyes. “Finally,” she huffed, as Clarke made a move.

“Oh, hush,” Clarke rolled her eyes, before leaning back on her chair. They were in the game room, where several tables were set up with board games ranging from Hungry Hungry Hippos to Blackjack. There were several nurses throughout the room, at least one at each table, to facilitate the game if need be. Sitting around Clarke and Lexa were two patients and a nurse.

“She always takes forever,” the nurse joked about Clarke. “That’s why I don’t play with her anymore.” The tag on her scrubs read OCTAVIA.

“You don’t play with me anymore because you always lose,” Clarke teased, which merited a playful shove from Octavia. Next to her, the boy named Jasper was sitting backwards on a chair, leaning back and forth, balancing on the back legs of the chair. The second patient was standing next to Lexa, and never spoke a word. He watched every movement carefully, though, and Lexa assumed he was trying to anticipate each player’s move.

“What’s today’s dessert?” Jasper asked out of nowhere.

“Cheesecake, I think,” Clarke replied without taking her eyes off Lexa’s hand as it hovered over the board, trying to decide which piece to move.

“Hey, Monty,” Jasper got the other patient’s attention. “I bet you a slice of cheesecake that Lexa wins.” He smiled dumbly before Clarke’s eyes shot up at him in disbelief.

“One: ouch,” she joked, clutching at her chest like her heart hurt. “And two: no gambling.”  Jasper rolled his eyes.

“You were a lot more fun in high school,” he groaned. It caught Lexa by surprise that they had known each other outside of the hospital. It made sense, though. The way Clarke moved and acted around them was more like a friend than a nurse. She had just assumed that Clarke was inherently friendly towards everyone. The truth was, though, that she’d never actually seen Clarke interact with any other patients, except to set up their IV’s, give them their daily medicine, and fulfill other generic nurse duties. _But why is she so friendly with me then?_ Lexa wondered, before Clarke’s voice brought her back.

“Lexa, do you mind if we continue playing tomorrow? My lunch break’s been up for the past five minutes.”

“Sure.” Clarke took out her phone to took a picture of the board.

“Okay, so remember: I was white, you were black, and it was my move next,” she said as she hurriedly re-organized the chess pieces, so that someone else could play. It was a rule of the game room. She was quick and rather clumsy, so Lexa reached out and touched her hands, making them stop. Curious blue eyes met hers.

“I’ve got this.” Lexa’s voice was low, soft, and closer to a whisper. “You go.” Clarke nodded, gave her a small smile, then slipped out from Lexa’s touch and left. Jasper, Monty, and Octavia disappeared with her, looking for something else to do, as Lexa stared down at her own hands. Her fingers carefully traced the edges of each chess piece, trying to focus on the texture – the sharpness, the smoothness. She dug the top of the king’s cross into her palm, until it hurt. Still, all she could really feel was Clarke’s warm skin against the tips of her fingers.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Self-harm mention
> 
> savagesacrifices.tumblr.com

The next day, she found herself in Lincoln’s office again. 

“I want to apologize about yesterday,” was how he started the session. “It was highly unprofessional.” She knew he was referring to Pike more than to himself. “No interruptions today.” He smiled the kind smile that he was famous for, and waited for Lexa to say something.

“It’s okay,” was the only thing she could come up with. Her eyes gazed down to that familiar red carpet.

“How are you feeling today?” Lexa shrugged. “Have you talked to any of the other patients?” She was about to tell him about Jasper and Monty, when she realized that she hadn’t actually spoken to them at all. In fact, the only person she’d said anything to this entire time had been Lincoln and Clarke. She shook her head. “Why not?”

“I just haven’t, I guess.” Lincoln nodded, like he understood.

“How’s your wrist?” Lexa looked down at her hand, still bandaged.

“Hurts,” was all she said.

“Would you like to talk about how you got hurt?” Lexa felt herself cringe, before shaking her head. “It’s all right to talk about it, you know.” Bored of the carper, she gazed over to his desk, where she saw a closed laptop, a mug, a pen holder, a name plate, a stack of manila folders, and a paper weight. “Do you remember what we talked about yesterday, Lexa?” She looked back up at him, relieved he’d dropped the subject of her wrist.

“My dad,” she said simply, and he nodded, waiting for her to elaborate. “About how he thinks I’m sick.”

“And you don’t think so?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Not really,” she replied. “Not in the way he thinks I am, at least.”

“What do you mean?” His pen hovered close to the clipboard that rested on his knee, ready to jot down her next words. It made her nervous.

“I’m not sure.” Her eyes went back to analyze his desk. There wasn’t really much else to see after a while, but she kept her eyes glued to it. Somehow it helped. “He thinks that I’m sick because I’m gay.”

It was the first time she’d ever said it out loud. It’s not like she’d ever truthfully denied it to herself or even felt ashamed of it, but there just wasn’t anyone whom she trusted enough with this secret. In a way, it was the only piece of her that was truly hers – not something her dad had forced upon her or bought for her. It was all hers. She didn’t want to share it with anyone else.

“I don’t think that makes me sick, though,” she added, each word slipping from her lips so slowly and delicately, as if trying to find the perfect, most accurate way to say what she meant. “Does thinking it’s okay make it a worse kind of sick?” Her green, pleading eyes met Lincoln’s and he gave her a soft smile.

“Not at all, Lexa,” he reassured her. “Despite what people may believe, homosexuality isn’t a sickness or a disease that can be cured.”

“But it’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” She hadn’t realized she was crying until she felt her salty tears on her lips. She brushed them away. “If I don’t want to be cured – if I _can’t_ to be cured, then how am I supposed to ever get out?” She was filled with a sudden panic. Her chest tightened, and her hands began to sweat. Lincoln noticed and leaned forward, placing a hand on her knee.

“It’s going to be okay, Lexa.” He handed her a box of tissues. “You will get out of here, I promise.” She sniffled, wiping her teary eyes and wondering if he could actually make those kinds of promises to his patients.

“How?” Her voice came out a lot more broken than she’d hoped it would. It embarrassed her.

“Your father came to talk to me a few weeks prior to your arrival, asking if I could have you committed for your homosexuality,” he explained. “Of course, I disagreed with him. Not only are you over eighteen, but gay conversion therapy is unorthodox and outdated.”

“That didn’t stop him, though, did it?” Lexa asked, still sniffling. Lincoln shook his head.

“He argued that the Mount Weather Mental Hospital advertises reparative therapy.” Lexa’s eyes widened in horror. “It’s something I’ve been trying years to get rid of, but Dr. Pike isn’t exactly on board with the whole idea.”

“So, what’s going to happen?” she asked, feeling entirely hopeless. “Can’t you just tell the judge that I’m fine? Straight, even?” She knew she was asking a lot. Lying to a judge could jeopardize his license.

“I’m going to try to get past Pike, to the D.C. Board of Medicine and try to get them to ban gay therapy. I know there’s already a movement within the board to do so, so I’ll try to see what I can do,” he explained. “Lexa, this is strictly confidential. I’m telling you because I think you deserve to know, but if Pike gets word of this…”

“He won’t,” she assured him. “I won’t tell anyone.”                                                                                                       

“In the meantime, we’ll continue with our sessions. I’m still invested in you as a patient, Lexa.” She eyed him suspiciously, so he clarified, “Your wrist.” She sighed, aggravated. “I can still help you. It’s my job as your doctor. Regardless of anything else, I want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself again.”

She scoffed at him, but understood. She didn’t want to talk about that night. She didn’t want to think about kitchen tiles stained red with her blood. She hated that every time she closed her eyes, she saw it dripping down her fingertips. She just wanted to forget.

“And if you can’t get them to ban it?” Lexa asked, afraid of the answer. Lincoln leaned in back into his chair and sighed solemnly, looking past Lexa and at the framed certificate that hung above her.

“I’ll figure it out.” 

* * *

 

Lexa left Dr. Lincoln’s office with newfound hope, a pinch of dread, and a homework assignment: to speak with at least three other patients between now and her next session. She walked around, aimlessly, until she found herself in the gardens. They were vast and beautifully green, with huge oak trees, flowers of every sort, a shallow fountain, and white benches scattered throughout. Patients raked leaves, strolled, and socialized with each other and their nurses.

She sat at a bench and watched as a few pigeons flew from branch to branch.

“Hey,” she heard someone say. “You’re Lexa, right?” She looked up and saw Jasper, grinning down at her. “Mind if I sit with you?” Lexa shrugged. He did, legs spread apart, taking an annoying amount of space. He followed Lexa’s gaze and found the two pigeons she was staring at. “What are you in here for, anyway?”

“Excuse me?” She snapped her head down to look at him. There was a fierceness in her eyes that frightened him, and she could tell.

“Bipolar,” he said, spreading his fingers flat across his chest. Lexa nodded, then looked away from him. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Clarke likes you, you know?” She felt herself blush, and was glad she had already been facing away.

“How do you know her?” Lexa asked, genuinely curious to know.

“We met back in high school,” he began. “I didn’t know her that well then. To be honest, I thought she was just another snobby bitch. She was a cheerleader, so I mean...” He shrugged. “I sold weed to her friends from time to time, but it wasn’t until I got committed that we actually became friends. Turns out she’s not so bad.”

“She is nice,” Lexa agreed. After that, they just sat together in silence, watching pigeons fly about until it was time for group therapy. 

* * *

 

There were eight people total. Jasper, Monty, Indra, Murphy, a guard, Dr. Pike, Clarke and Lexa. They sat in a circle, Lexa in between Jasper and Indra. Next to Jasper, sat Monty, then Clarke, then Murphy, then Pike, and back to Indra. The guard, whom Clarke had called Bellamy, was standing by the door, arms crossed and looking bored.

“As always, we’ll start by going around the room, stating our names,” Pike began. His voice was deep and Lexa could almost feel her bones rattle from it. “We’ll also say one good thing about our week, and one bad. I’ll begin.” He cleared his throat and pretended to think, before finally speaking again. Lexa didn’t really pay attention. She couldn’t, really – not when the person directly in front of her was Clarke. She tried to stare at something else – at anything else – but her eyes only found rest on Clarke. On her eyes, her nose, her lips, her golden locks, her hands, her –

“Ahem,” Pike urged.

“Oh!” She felt herself turn red, and finally turned her eyes off Clarke – who by now was smiling back at her. “My name is Lexa Woods.”

“And something good that’s happened this week?” Pike asked.

“Oh, right, um…” She struggled to find words and chastised herself for not having come up with something to say beforehand. “I finally got them to give me the right size clothes.” People around her laughed quietly, until Pike hushed them.

“That’s good,” Pike smiled. “And a bad thing?”

“Um…” She swallowed, looking up, trying to choose between the thousand things that seemed to be going wrong. _My dad locked me up in here. The chief psychiatrist is a homophobic piece of shit. I have a giant crush on one of the nurses._ She glanced quickly at Clarke, whose eyes were on her – wide and concerned. “My medicine is making me feel really exhausted,” she said, recalling the conversation she’d had with Clarke at lunch. The nurse let out a sigh, and gave her a small, proud smile.

“Oh, that’s perfectly normal,” Pike assured her, but she had already blocked him out again.

The session went on, rather uneventfully. She found out that Indra was a war veteran who had hurt her shoulder so badly that she hadn’t been allowed to return to the army. Murphy was an alcoholic kleptomaniac. Jasper had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, as he’d said before. She still couldn’t figure out why Monty was there, though.

After the session, they were all dismissed, and most of them quickly scattered about. Lexa hadn’t even gotten up from her chair, when Clarke rushed up to her.

“Hey, Lexa,” she smiled, her hands behind her back. She looked childlike and adorable.

“Hi, Clarke,” she said, nodding her head.

“I’m on break now, if you want to play chess.” Her voice showcased her excitement, and Lexa would have found it cruel to say anything but yes. 

* * *

 

This time they played alone. Jasper and Monty were at a workshop, and Octavia had called in sick. They didn’t talk much, but Lexa didn’t really mind. Their eyes locked constantly, as they exaggerated their playful rivalry. Clarke scrunched up her nose every time Lexa mad a move she didn’t like, and Lexa unconsciously bit her lip whenever she was thinking too hard.

“Be careful, before you draw blood,” Clarke joked. Lexa looked up at her, cocking her head to the side like a confused pup. The blonde laughed before leaning forward, without thinking, and using her thumb to slide Lexa’s lip out from beneath her teeth. Lexa froze at the touch, and could have sworn she saw Clarke blush. “Uh, sorry,” she muttered shyly, her eyes busying themselves by looking back down at the board.

“It’s your turn,” was all Lexa said, and the moment was forgotten. Except Lexa didn’t forget it at all. She replayed it in her head, and could still feel Clarke’s fingertip on her lower lip.

After a few minutes, Clarke looked back up at her smirking smugly. Looking down, Lexa saw that she’d trapped her queen.

“You’re so cocky,” Lexa scoffed, glaring at her playfully.

“I didn’t say anything,” Clarke said in the fakest, most innocent and dramatic way she could muster. Lexa just shook her head in disapproval.

“You don’t have to. I can see it in your eyes.”

“What’s in my eyes?” Lexa looked up to stare at them. They were as blue as ever, as captivating as ever, as lovely as ever… Clarke leaned forward, batting her eyelashes in cartoon-ish fashion, letting Lexa analyze them. “Whataya see, doc?” She was so playful and silly, and Lexa fought back the urge to just lean to close those last few inches and steal a kiss.

“I can see…” Lexa played along, inching just a tiny bit closer. Clarke’s eyes grew a little darker, her breath a little heavier. Lexa felt dazed, by her sweet scent, by the pink flush on Clarke’s cheeks, by the blueness in her eyes, the fullness of her lips. “…that you completely left your king unprotected,” she whispered. Her voice came out uncharacteristically low and seductive, and it took Clarke a while to actually register what she’d said.

Lexa leaned back onto her chair, moved her horse, then proudly gloated. “Check-mate.” 

* * *

 

On Thursday, she spent most of the day in bed. The Lexapro had finally kicked in, and fuck, Clarke was right. She didn’t want to move, she didn’t want to eat. All she cared about was sleeping.

She dragged herself out of the room to take her medicine, eat half a piece of bread, and then rush back to collapse on her bed. She slept through her therapy session, which she knew was something that would come back and bite her in the ass, but she just didn’t care. She was too exhausted to care.

She dreamt of Costia – the daughter of one of her father’s biggest clients. He’d been defending Costia’s father on some embezzlement charges. Lexa didn’t care much about the actual case, but pretended to just so she could spend time at Costia’s house. She’d told her father it was a perfect learning opportunity for her, and he’d fallen for it straight away, a proud father. Costia was Lexa’s first real kiss, her first real love. It had started and ended abruptly. After the case had been won, Costia had told Lexa’s father about their affair. She never understood why, and that’s what haunted her still. Her feelings of love had burned out, but the ache of betrayal still ached within her.

She woke up in a cold sweat, groaning Costia’s name. She sat upright, quickly, before collapsing back onto her bed. There was a knock at the door, then, but Lexa didn’t have the strength to tell them to go away. After a few moments, the door opened, and Dr. Lincoln walked in.

“Lexa.” He stepped closer, hovering over her. “You missed our session today.”

“I’m tired,” she groaned, hiding her face under her pillow.

“I have a free hour. Come to my office so we can talk now,” he urged. “I don’t want you missing sessions.”

“Hmph,” she curled up into a ball. He placed his hand on her shoulder, and she shivered. He was cold.

“You’re burning up,” he sighed. “I’ll get a nurse to come in, maybe take you over to medical.”

“I want Clarke,” she muttered, half-asleep. 

* * *

 

When she woke up next, there was a cold, wet cloth on her forehead. She opened her eyes slowly, and found Clarke sitting next to her.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“Perfect,” she joked, giving her a goofy smile.

“You’re silly,” Clarke laughed. “Dr. Lincoln said you were asking for me.” _Oh, shit._ She reached over and turned the cloth on her forehead around, pressing the cool side firmly onto Lexa’s skin. Lexa gasped at the cold, involuntarily gripping at Clarke’s hand. Clarke didn’t say anything, but shifted her hand so she could hold it. “You’re all right. Just side effects from the medicine. You’ll be good in no time, just keep taking it.” Lexa nodded.

“How long have you been here?”

“About an hour. Lincoln said to stay here until you’re all better.” She leaned back onto her chair.

“Shouldn’t you be doing more important things?” Clarke shrugged. “I’d rather be here.” 

* * *

 

It was dinnertime when Clarke hovered over Lexa, crossing her arms, waiting impatiently for the thermometer in Lexa’s mouth to beep. Lexa personally liked the way the cool tip of it felt next to her tongue. She didn’t like, however, the way Clarke looked extremely stressed out. The thermometer beeped and Clarke took it out, before Lexa could even react.

“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath, which quite surprised Lexa because she’d never heard her swear. “Oh, sorry, um… Get out of bed.”

“What?” That was the last thing she wanted to do.

“We need to cool you down. You’re getting a shower,” Clarke explained, helping Lexa out of the bed. She was sweaty, sticky, stinky, and gross, but Clarke made no mention of it. “Thankfully, everyone’s having dinner right now, so we can sneak into the showers.”

Once they reached the shower room, Lexa leaned against the wall and watched as Clarke regulated the temperature in one of the door-less stalls. When she was done, she walked over to Lexa, looking at her deep in thought.

“Can you shower by yourself?” she asked, biting her lip in worry. “I have to go run for towels and a fresh pair of clothes, but I don’t want you falling or…”

“I’ll be fine, Clarke,” she assured her. “Don’t worry.” Clarke hesitated, but eventually went off, running out to get Lexa what she needed.

She slipped out of her damp clothes and threw them to the side, onto a nearby bench. Then, she stepped into the stall and let the water hit her. It wasn’t cold, but it still made her teeth chatter. She scrubbed soap throughout her body as best she could, and shampooed her hair. At times when she’d felt she’d lose her balance, she’d hold on tight to the edge of the stall wall. Once she’d finally lathered and rinsed off, she turned the water off.

Standing there, wet, naked, and sick, she felt undeniably petrified. It finally hit her then. Her life. Where she was. She looked down at her wrist, her bandage soaking wet, nearly slipping off by itself. She felt hot tears run down her cheeks, as she tore the bandage off, revealing a thick, pink scar. One single, vertical line. She didn’t have to close her eyes to see the blood. It spilled off, down to her hand, dripping from her fingertips. Her hair let out droplets of water that mixed in with the blood, and she watched as it swirled down the drain – as _she_ swirled down the drain.

“Lexa?”

She watched and watched, all of that imaginary blood. Until her eyes filled up with so many tears, all she saw was a blur of nothing. The closed her eyes, letting her tears spill, and collapsed into broken sobs.

“Lexa!”

She fell to her knees, clutching at her wrist, holding it close to her chest, as she pressed her forehead against the tiled wall. She didn’t notice when Clarke wrapped her up with a towel from behind.

“It’s okay,” she whispered into her wet hair. “It’s okay, you’re safe.” She held her there, letting Lexa finish. Letting her sob. After a while, her chest hurt too much to muster any more sounds, her eyes red and burning from so many tears. “Let’s get you to your room,” Clarke said, after Lexa had quieted down. She helped her up and pat dried her body, though her blue eyes never left Lexa’s face. She handed Lexa the clothes, and she dressed herself, while Clark picked up the dirty laundry.

They walked together back to Lexa’s room, holding hands as if it were the most normal thing. Patients were shuffling out of the dining room, and Clarke paused.

“You should eat.” Lexa shook her head.

“I’m tired,” she sighed, even though she was starving as well.

“I’ll go get something for you,” she suggested, but Lexa only squeezed her hand tighter.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, her eyes so pleading and afraid. Clarke nodded.

“I’ll text Octavia to bring us something.” 

* * *

Back in Lexa’s room, they ate silently what Octavia had brought them: two trays, each with a serving of mashed potatoes, peas, and roast beef, as well as a cup of chocolate pudding. After they’d finished, Clarke had picked up their trays and left them on top of the drawer. They hadn’t spoken a word.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa whispered, curled up in her bed. “You can go now, I’m fine.” Clarke sat at the edge of the bed, looking over at her. She brushed a few strands of hair out of Lexa’s eyes, so she could see them even though they were already closed.

“You’ve cooled down.”

“I told you. I’m fine.”

She snuggled into her pillow, her brown locks falling onto her face again. Clarke brushed them back, curled them behind her ear. Her hand carefully traced the edge of Lexa’s jaw, and the brunette could feel herself get chills. As exhausted as she was, the thrill of Clarke’s touch kept her awake. Her fingertips traced down to her shoulder, her arm, until she reached her wrist. Lexa’s immediate response was to snap it away, to tuck it into the blanket, under the pillow. But she didn’t. She let Clark touch her. And she did, so gently, tracing the scar on her skin. Lexa’s eyes opened, and looked up at her. She looked so gorgeous, it hurt her more than anything else. At her fingertips, Lexa felt herself immune to everything but Clarke. She could be her destruction, and she’d accept her fate with open arms. 

* * *

She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep, until she woke up alone the next morning. Feeling better, she got up, got dressed, and started her day. She took her medicine, sat with Indra at breakfast, and looked restlessly around for Clarke. She wasn’t sure if she had dreamt most of last night or if it had been real. All she knew was that her heart had swelled up, and all she really wanted was to see her.

“I didn’t know you were paranoid,” Indra scoffed.

“What?”

“You keep looking around, like you think someone’s watching you,” she pointed out. “Trust me, no one is.”

Lexa couldn’t explain why that made her sad. 

* * *

“I see you’re feeling better,” Lincoln smiled, welcoming her into his office. She sat down, crossing her legs, and eyeing him as he shifted around the room. She wondered if Clarke had told him about her breakdown the night before. “Where’s your bandage?”

“I don’t need it anymore,” she said simply.

“I can see that.” He looked at her scar, until Lexa placed her other hand over it. “Did you do your homework?”

“Nearly. I talked to Jasper and Indra.”

“How’d that go?” He clicked his pen and it made Lexa feel aggravated.

“Fine. They’re okay,” she shrugged.

“What did you talk about?” _Clarke. Paranoia._ She shrugged again. “What about Clarke?” Her eyes shot up at him.

“What about her?”

“You asked for her yesterday and I’ve seen you around together,” he explained. “I take it you’re getting along well?”

“Yeah, I like her,” she admitted.

“How do you feel with her?” She felt a knot in her stomach suddenly. “It’s okay, Lexa," he reassured her. She wondered if her feelings were really that readable on her face, or if he actually was so great at his job. "Strictly confidential.”

“Safe,” she whispered. “I feel safe with her. I… I don’t know.” She turned away, though she couldn’t hide her face, and she knew she was blushing. Lincoln scribbled onto his clipboard, and Lexa wondered if he’d written out what a complete idiot she was for crushing so hard on someone so unattainable. “Things just feel better with her,” she shrugged. “Life feels a lot lighter… More doable. I can’t really explain it any other way.”

“It’s a beautiful description Lexa,” he smiled, jotting down her words. “I’m glad you’ve found a friend here. She is quite fond of you as well.”

“She is?”

“Clarke is an excellent nurse, but truth be told, the second her shift ends, she’s out the door,” he chuckled. “Yesterday was her day off, but when I called her telling her you’d asked for her… Well, she came right away.” Lexa’s insides felt so feather-like, she thought she might drift away.

“That’s… good to know,” she smiled, and Lincoln did too.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you smile, Lexa.” She rolled her eyes, and pressed her lips together, but she couldn’t help herself from smiling. “Now, tell me about yesterday. When I knocked on your door, you were saying someone’s name. Costia, was it?”

Lexa told him the story of Costia, and Lincoln nodded sympathetically, jotting down notes on occasion.

“Have you seen her since then?” He asked. She just shook her head, not really interested in the idea. “Since her, has there been anyone else who’s made you feel that way?”

“What? Terribly betrayed?” She scoffed.

“In love.” She froze, completely taken aback. It took her a few moments to come up with an answer. Surely, she’d kissed girls, flirted, gone out, but not even come close to falling in love. She hadn’t let herself.

“After Costia, I just promised myself I wouldn’t go through that again,” she explained. “Love is weakness.” Lincoln nodded and wrote out her last three words in all caps, before underlining them twice. He didn’t ask her for more on the subject, but she kept it on her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to leave comments/kudos. 
> 
> Message me at:  
> savagesacrifices.tumblr.com/ask


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, in which Lexa discovers something about Clarke that changes things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was so short! Important stuff happens though.
> 
> Savagesacrifices.tumblr.com

She walked into group therapy and found Clarke sitting in one of the chairs, staring down at her phone. Lexa wandered around the room, pretending to read the flyers on the wall, when really she was waiting for Clarke to see her. She wanted to sit next her, but also didn’t want to annoy her or come off as creepy or needy, so she just walked around aimlessly and hoped that either Clarke would invite her to sit with her or someone else would walk in and take the spots next to her.

“Lexa,” Clarke said, surprised. “I didn’t see you walk in. How are you feeling?”

“A lot better, thanks,” she said, genuinely. Clarke patted the seat next to her enthusiastically.

“Come! Sit!” Lexa smiled, before walking over and sitting next to Clarke. She looked incredibly exhausted, drained, and pale. Her blue eyes were shot red, and her hair was pulled up in a messy blonde bun. She sniffled, and Lexa’s first thought was that Clarke was sick, until she realized that she had most likely been crying. She didn’t know what to do or how to approach the situation, or even if she should acknowledge it all.

“H-how are you?” she stuttered out.

“I could be better,” she shrugged.

“Can I help?” Clarke shook her head for a moment, then stopped. Her eyes lit up, slightly, though they still glistened with unshed tears.

“Play chess with me today?” Her voice was so small, so pleading. Lexa instantly agreed.

 

* * *

 

After another, terribly uneventful group therapy session, in which the most thrilling instance was when Murphy had confessed to stealing the dining room’s salt shakers again, Lexa and Clarke walked to the game room.

Lexa let Clarke be white, so she could go first. She spent most of the game analyzing Clarke, barely paying attention at the consequences of her movements in the game. Clarke caught on.

“Are you serious?” She rolled her eyes. “Why would you risk your bishop like that over a dumb ol’ pawn?” She seemed aggravated and Lexa didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know if she should ask what was wrong. Clarke had set her phone on the table, which she was pretty sure was against protocol, but didn’t mention it. It kept buzzing, though, which made the match that much more stressful. Clarke would look at the message without unlocking her phone, shake her head, then keep playing.

“Is, um, everything okay?” Lexa finally asked after the phone had buzzed a total of 67 times.

“Yeah, sorry,” Clarke groaned. “It’s nothing.” The phone buzzed again. 68. “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, reading the text. “What a fucking asshole.” She unlocked the phone, and typed up a lengthy reply, before tapping on ‘send’ a bit too aggressively.

“If you say so.” Lexa moved a chess piece and slumped back down into her chair. She knew something was obviously wrong, but she couldn’t pressure Clarke into telling her. In all honesty, Clarke didn’t have to tell her anything. They weren’t really friends. Lincoln said they were, but Lexa knew that wasn’t really true. Clarke was just doing her job by looking out for Lexa. It would be weird if it was the other way around. It’d be like if Lexa asked Lincoln about his personal relationship with his father.

Still, she just wanted to feel useful.

Clarke made one more move, then picked up her phone again and dialed someone. Lexa looked down at the board, though she couldn’t help but hear Clarke’s side of the conversation. She focused her eyes hard on each individual piece, both on the board and at the sides, trying to do what she always did when trying to block something out – make up stories. It had worked for her since she was a child; she’d take inanimate objects and give them backstories, while her parents raged in the next room. She’d done it for the trees she drove past as her father lectured her on something she didn’t quite care about. She’d done it in Dr. Lincoln’s office with the shapes on the red carpet. And she was doing it now with the chess pieces that were scattered unevenly before her.

Still, Clarke’s voice was too sweet to be denied, and Lexa too weak to even attempt to.

“Finn… Finn, no, listen to me…” she groaned into her phone. “I’m just tired of fighting.”

Lexa picked up one of the pieces that wasn’t in play and ran her thumb over it.

“I told you – it was an emergency… No, nobody was dying, but… I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had planned out a date for us, babe.” Lexa cringed, her chest aching suddenly. “Yes, I knew it was our anniversary, but… No, hey… Finn. Yes, baby… I’m sorry.” She looked up fast enough to see Clarke roll her eyes. “I love you too… Yeah, babe, I’ll see you tonight… Bye.” Sighing, as if exasperated, she set the phone back down onto the table.

 “Everything okay?” Lexa asked almost immediately, her words rushing out of her mouth like they were on fire. Clarke gave her a sad, tired smile.

“Peachy,” Clarke joked, rolling her eyes again. “Boys are just aggravating, you know?” Lexa nodded, but she didn’t really understand. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.” She brought her hands up to her face to hide, but Lexa didn’t think she actually felt embarrassed.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it was so unprofessional, but it won’t happen again,” she promised. Now that she’d apologized and made up with this Finn fella, she seemed a lot calmer, her cheerfulness back and in full bloom. Lexa wondered how someone could have so much power over someone else’s emotions. _Why would anyone let that happen to themselves?_ she wondered, as if completely missing the irony of her predicament. She didn’t, though. “Let’s just… Let’s keep playing, yeah? It’s your turn.”

Lexa shook her head, nodding towards the board. Clarke looked down at the pieces. “You won.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, Clarke has a boyfriend. (And it's Finn, so double yikes)
> 
> Remember to leave comments/kudos!
> 
> Contact me at: savagesacrifices.tumblr.com/ask


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of feelings in this one. Something highly expected and something highly unexpected happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: self-harm reference

The next two days, Saturday and Sunday, dragged on for what seemed like forever. Clarke didn’t work on the weekends, though Lexa wouldn’t know how she’d feel if she was there anyway. After their last game of chess, Lexa had come out of the game room feeling unnervingly empty.

Now she sat in that familiar chair in Lincoln’s office on Monday morning.

“You haven’t spoken a lot lately, Lexa,” he observed. “Is something bothering you?” She shrugged. “Have you joined any workshops? Played any sports? Made any new friends?” Lexa shook her head to all three. “What have you been up to then?”

“Sulking,” she tried to joke, but it was the truth. “Just existing.”

“Do you miss Clarke?” There was no point in trying to deny it.

“I guess, yeah,” she sighed, looking around his office to find something new to stare at. She’d already seen it all.

“You know, it’s great that you’ve found a friend, Lexa, but you can’t depend on someone to keep you happy,” he explained what Lexa already knew. “How do you feel when she’s not around?”

“Empty,” she admitted, more to herself than to Lincoln. “It’s fucking terrifying.”

“Why is it terrifying, Lexa?”

“Because it’s not like I can constantly be with her,” she groaned. “It’s not like _she_ feels empty without _me_.” She cringed at how pathetic she sounded. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” he assured her. “Your feelings matter. How you feel matters.” Silence filled the room, and the only sound Lexa could hear was Lincoln’s voice echoing inside her head. Her eyes wandered over to his clipboard, as it rested on his lap, and she could still make out the words from a previous session. Love is weakness.

“Do you think I should just stay away from her then?” she broke the silence. “Before this – whatever this is – gets any more serious? I mean, it’s not like anything could ever happen anyway…”

“Is that what you think would be best?”

She didn’t know. All she knew was that she felt broken; pieces of her were missing and she could feel the cracks that ran across her skin like she was made of porcelain. She knew she was close to shattering – down to a million tiny shards of bloody glass on the floor. All she knew was Clarke made her feel whole when she was around, but infinitely more broken up when she was gone.

* * *

She walked into a painting workshop that day, as per Lincoln’s request. She was never a very artsy person, but she didn’t really mind. She figured that it would be therapeutic, if anything, to dip her fingers in paint and spread the colors about a blank canvas. She didn’t have a specific image in mind, but still furrowed her brow in deep concentration. She used a lot of yellow, light blue, and green. She was determined to keep her piece as cheerful as possible, but as the colors collided with one another they created a muck of brown.

Around her, patients worked on much better pieces than her own, but she paid no attention. She cocked her head to the side, trying to find the secret message behind her painting, as if she hadn’t created it herself.

Her hair was up in a messy ponytail, her face covered in specks of color. She wore an old apron over her clothes, but it had tears throughout and she was sure some paint had found its way to her uniform. She didn’t really care.

“I didn’t know you were into abstract painting,” she heard someone say behind her. Looking up, she found the upside down figure of Clarke, hands at her hips, eyes squinting, and a tongue sticking out between her lips. “I like it,” she said, finally, taking her eyes off the rubbish painting.

“I didn’t think I’d see you in here.” Clarke frowned at how disappointed Lexa sounded about the fact that she did.

“Drawing’s my forte,” she explained, pulling up a stool to sit next to Lexa. “But painting relaxes me.” Lexa nodded, dragging her stained fingers on her apron, before scooting back on her own stool. “Are you leaving?” There was a hint of sadness in her voice that Lexa pretended she didn’t hear.

“I told Indra I’d take a walk with her in the gardens,” she lied. Clarke nodded, and watched her go with sad, confused, blue eyes.

* * *

 They sat on the farthest bench, under a tall oak tree that gave them a decent amount of shade. Lexa knocked a few rocks around with her foot, while Indra talked.

“I don’t think you belong in here,” she said firmly.

The wind blew nicely throughout the garden, picking up a few fallen leaves. She could hear the flap of wings of pigeons, huddling around Indra. The older woman, dug into her pocket, taking out a hardened piece of bread. Breaking off bits of it, she discreetly fed the birds.

“I don’t.” She leaned back onto the bench, spreading her legs out. A pigeon flew down and landed on her right foot.

“Then why are you here?”

The pigeon looked up at Lexa, who was sitting completely still, afraid of scaring off her new, beady-eyed friend. Indre threw a few more crumbs, though, and the bird hopped off.

“Why are _you_?” she replied defensively, though mostly bothered because she’d made the bird move away. When Indra didn’t reply, she added, “Why don’t you think I belong here?”

“Had you cut yourself before?” she asked bluntly, nodding towards Lexa’s scar. Lexa simply nodded, her finger tracing over the scar, wondering if it would always feel so rough to the touch. “Why?” She was so forward about it, that it offended Lexa, but she didn’t bother to argue. She simply shrugged. “You don’t know?”

Lexa turned to look far in the distance, where she could see the courtyard. Murphy was shooting a basketball up, but kept missing. A few patients had gathered around, probably mocking him, from what Lexa could see.

“It doesn’t matter why,” she sighed, but it wasn’t a good enough answer for Indra.

“Do you remember?”

“Remember what?” Murphy threw the ball at the fence, against which the patients had pressed up to see him. They stepped backwards in shock, and Murphy laughed, before picking up the basketball again.

“When you hurt yourself.” Lexa’s head spun.

“What?” Her heart felt heavy in her chest. She leaned forward, inching closer to Indra, feeling aggravated and unbearably vulnerable. Hiding her wrist, clutching it against her belly, she urged again, “Why would you ask that?”

“Well, do you?” Indra turned to her, then, eyes so dark and hard. Lexa felt hers unbearably soft in comparison, already welling up with tears.

She nodded hesitantly.

“Of course.” Her voice came out a mere whisper, and she hated herself for it. “I remember,” she said a bit louder.

The last thing she expected was for Indra to laugh, but she did, so loud and hearty. Lexa felt her skin burn in both embarrassment and rage at once. The birds flew off at the sudden loud sound.

“Your father really is a powerful man,” she said in between bursts of laughter.

“What are you talking about?” Lexa asked desperately, but Indra only doubled over with laughter. Her lungs felt like they were set on fire, and there was smoke coming up her throat. She gritted her teeth and balled her hands into fists, until her knuckles were pale.

“Have you got his temper too?” She was mocking her, testing her. Lexa knew this, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stand it anymore – her mind was growing hazy, images of blood flashing behind her eyes, a feeling of complete and utter fear, the thought that she was actually going insane. All Lexa could find the concentration to do was glare at her, until she felt her eyesight falter.

It was all a blur, then. All she felt was a stabbing headache, a rush of blood, the air against her face as she sprung forward, the clash of bodies, the grip on her arm, the sun on her face, and the hard sudden smash against the ground. She groaned, eyes forced shut, her hands coming up to touch her own face, as if to make sure it was still there. For a brief moment, all she heard was a ringing in her ears, and then the flap of wings, the panicked voices calling out for a nurse. Opening her eyes, the sun hurt, but she still made out Indra’s silhouette, as she towered above her. She felt herself slipping back into exhaustion, her vision darkening, before turning pitch black.

* * *

 She woke up in a room similar the one she’d woken up in when she’d first arrived to the mental hospital. The whiteness of it still hurt, and she groaned at the realization that closing her eyes didn’t do much good. A woman shifted next to her in blue scrubs, and walked up to her.

“Alexandra,” a voice spoke, and Lexa wasn’t sure if she felt relief or disappointment in the fact that it wasn’t Clarke’s.

“Lexa,” she corrected, her voice gruff and tired.

“Right.” She heard the nurse scribble something on a clipboard, and Lexa assumed she’d written out her preferred name on her chart for future reference. “How are you feeling?” Her eyes focused, finally, and she saw the woman before her. It was Octavia.

“Headache,” was all she replied with.

“You took a pretty hard hit there,” Octavia explained. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Indra.” Indra happened. She remembered it all, and it filled her with an inexplicable feeling. Octavia nodded.

 “Can you try sitting up for me?” Lexa did, though she found that her headache only ached worse when she did. “Dizzy?”

“No.”

“Good. Do you have any neck pain? A ringing in your ears? Nausea?” Lexa shook her head to both. The questions went on, as Octavia examined whether Lexa had a concussion or not.

“You might not have a concussion after all,” she smiled. “Still best to keep you here for a while, just in case.” Lexa nodded. This bed was a lot more comfortable than the one in her room. “You can press this button here if you need anything,” she said, before leaving Lexa alone in the enveloping whiteness.

* * *

 A few moments later, Lincoln walked in, carrying a food tray.

“Ms. Woods, you do get yourself into quite the predicaments,” he smiled, placing the tray on a small bed table, and then over Lexa’s lap. “Eat up, so you can get your strength back soon.” He’d brought her a slice of pizza, cranberry juice, and a cup of orange Jell-O.

“Thanks.” She took the Jell-o first, digging her plastic spork into it.

“I’m going over to the Board of Medicine tomorrow,” he announced. “I’m using my vacation days for it. I don’t know how long I’ll be up there, but I’ve reserved a room at a nearby hotel.”

Lexa nodded, mouth full of orange goodness.

“Pike thinks I’m going down to Florida to visit my parents, in case it comes up,” he smiled. “Here.” He handed her a business card with his information on it. She turned it over and found numbers scribbled out in blue ink. “That’s my personal cellphone number. Call me any time for anything. You know how to use the phones over in the common room, right?” She nodded, sliding her finger over the numbers, the ink blurring just a little.

“Good luck.”

He thanked her, before walking out and leaving her alone again.

* * *

 She picked at her food, but only ate the pepperonis off the pizza. She had resigned herself to being alone all day in this white room, which she hardly minded, when the door flung open. Clarke rushed through, slamming the door behind her, and nearly sprinting up to Lexa’s bedside.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes bore into her, so concerned and helpless, while her hand naturally reached out to find Lexa’s.

“I’m fine,” she assured her, though her voice came off awfully annoyed, and her hand slipped into the blanket and away from Clarke’s touch.

“I heard Indra beat the shit out of you.”

Lexa scoffed.

“I’m glad you’re all right, though.” She sat down on the chair next to the bed, not sure how close Lexa wanted her to be. “You _are_ all right, aren’t you?”

She didn’t look over at her, too afraid she’d burst into tears if she did. Instead, she stared off at nothing, getting lost in the milky whiteness of the walls.

“Lexa,” Clarke whispered, leaning forward, resting her hands on the edge of her bed. “Did I do something wrong?” There was so much hurt in her voice that it nearly broke Lexa’s heart. Here she was - small, delicate, and vulnerable, her blue eyes pleading for Lexa’s attention.

“No,” she shook her head, turning to face her. Because Lexa was sitting upright, she had to look down to find Clarke’s face, staring up at her. Her eyes glistened with tears, and Lexa found herself touching her. She was soft, and Lexa easily cupped her face with her hand, rubbing her thumb over her cheeks as tears inevitably fell. She eyed her, curiously, wondering why it was that she was crying.

Lexa’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something but had forgotten how to speak. She looked so gorgeous, even now with tears rolling down her face, a broken expression, and trembling lips. Lexa brought her other hand to Clarke, brushing her hair back with her fingers.

It was so quiet, Lexa thought time might have stood still just then. The only movement she could perceive came from Clarke and herself, and they moved so slowly, so gently, as if afraid to hurt each other.

Just when Lexa thought they’d stay like this forever, Clarke broke the trance, springing forward, halfway onto the bed, so that now she was hovering slightly over Lexa. She felt Clarke tangle one hand in her hair, and the other at the base of her jaw, pulling her chin up so that their lips met.

It was a hard, hasty kiss that made Lexa’s head spin. Clarke’s mouth moved against her desperately, and Lexa couldn’t remember how to breathe. Suddenly the world became incredibly fast, incredibly loud – as if to make up for the silent slowness of before. She was sure the entire room was filled with the loud echoes of her own heartbeat, with the hot and heavy breaths that fell against her skin.

It took her a while to realize that she was kissing Clarke back, as if by instinct. Her hands clutched at her back, trying to pull her closer. It wasn’t hard, as Clarke eagerly pressed herself forward, though still remained halfway off the bed. Lexa’s mouth sought Clarke’s in between panting breaths, and her tongue felt burning hot inside Clarke’s mouth.

Clarke pressed her forehead against Lexa’s, as she tried to catch her breath. She chuckled silently to herself, a smile spread across her lips.

Lexa’s chest hurt with such a thunderous heart, but the fog in her mind finally began to clear, as she stared at Clarke. _Fuck._ Before, Clarke could lean back in for another kiss, Lexa pulled away.

“Stop.” It came out forced and quiet, and Lexa realized how breathless she actually was.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke muttered instantly, leaning back and all the way off the bed. “I’m so sorry, I just… I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry.” Clarke’s face lit up a bright red, as she tried fixing her hair, eyes darting around to room so as to avoid Lexa’s stare. “I’m just going to – uh, leave now. I’m sorry.” She clumsily rushed out, leaving Lexa in a room completely rid of white - and instead covered in a hot, red of famished lust.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave comments/kudos! I appreciate them lots :)
> 
> Contact me at: savagesacrifices.tumblr.com/ask


	5. Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts off after the game room scene at the end of chapter 3. This is basically chapter 4, but through the eyes of Clarke. 
> 
> Contact me at: savagesacrifices.tumblr.com/ask

“You won,” Lexa said simply, before standing up and leaving Clarke to reorganize the chess pieces alone.

“Wait, where are you going?” She’d called out, confused, but Lexa had just shrugged and walked away. For a moment, she considered jumping out of her seat and pulling her back, but then she remembered when and who they were.

It was a lot more difficult working at a mental institution than Clarke let on; and it was difficult for all the unexpected reasons. She grew far too attached to too many patients, wanting to coddle them, protect them, and even cure them – the last of which was way beyond her expertise. There was a certain protectiveness in Clarke that she couldn’t just leave at home. She carried it with her everywhere she went – a sense of responsibility that weighed her down at every crossroad. She’d gotten it from her father – or at least that’s what her mother always said – but Clarke had never had the chance to ask him how he dealt with it.

Watching Lexa walk away from her, obviously upset, she had no choice but to let her slip away. She wasn’t allowed to make friends – not inside the hospital, but Lexa had just shown up out of nowhere and nearly swept her away with a mere glance. She couldn’t explain what it was – not now or ever – but there was something about her green eyes that drew Clarke closer and closer. It was a dangerous thing to get so invested in patients – she knew that – but most of the time, Lexa didn’t seem like a patient at all. She was strong; Clarke could tell. Maybe even more than Lexa herself knew.

After organizing the chess pieces on the board, she sighed and leaned back on the chair. A heavy sensation of guilt filled her gut, though she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. Had she? She wasn’t sure.

She felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

 **Finn:** i can swing by in 10?

She frowned, but texted back.

 **Clarke:** sounds good

It wasn’t that she didn’t like spending time with Finn – she loved him. Or well, that’s what she assumed. She had to, right? After over a year of dating someone, you _must_ love them, right?

Finn had said those three pesky words less than a month into their relationship, while Clarke had taken over half a year – out of guilt or actual love, she didn’t know.

“Griffin,” someone called out behind her. Turning around, she saw the hospital’s newly hired mechanic.

“Raven,” she greeted her, faking a smile that wasn’t all that hard to see through.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she lied, sighing exhaustedly. “How’s the new job treating you?”

She had previously met Raven only once before, at a party held at Octavia’s house. She’d invited everyone she knew, including newly hired employees before they’d even had a chance to break in their new job.

“It’ll be like orientation,” Octavia had joked. “We can haze them.” Clarke had rolled her eyes, but didn’t really see the harm in it. Raven had been one of the first to show up and last to leave, and as Clarke and Octavia were dangerously familiar with: shitfaced drunk is the best way to make new friends.

“Thrilling,” Raven said sarcastically, before falling down on the chair Lexa had just been occupying. “I’ve been fixing old heart monitors all day.”

They talked casually for a few minutes, but Clarke couldn’t keep her thoughts from wandering back to Lexa. In her head, she replayed their last interaction too many times to count, trying to figure out what had set her off. She hated feeling so uneasy.

Her phone buzzed again.

 **Finn:** im outside

 **Clarke:** in the game room

 **Finn:** you kno i don’t like going in

Clarke rolled her eyes and was about to argue, when Raven stood up.

“Leaving already?”

“I’m done for today,” she explained. “I gotta head over to my second job.” Clarke nodded, before standing up herself.

“I’m meeting someone outside actually. I’ll walk with you.”

They kept talking as they walked – about Octavia’s next party mostly. She and Lincoln were heading over to Florida to visit his parents, so she wanted to throw a huge weekend-long party before they left. Raven seemed oddly excited about it, but Clarke didn’t think much of it. Her eyes were too busy scanning every room they walked past, hoping to catch a glimpse of those familiar green eyes. She didn’t.

Once outside, they found Finn leaning against his car, arms folded, squinting as the sun shone on his face. His dark brown locks were pushed all the way back. She was about to greet him, when Raven spoke up first.

“Finn?” His eyes widened, staring at the two in what could only be described as shock.

“You know each other?” Clarke asked, just as surprised.

“We met at O’s party,” Raven explained, smiling from ear-to-ear, and Clarke wouldn't have assumed anything from it. But then Raven joked, “You never did call me back”, stepping forward and playfully pushing Finn back. He laughed nervously, looking back at Clarke.

“I – uh,” he stuttered, but it didn’t take Clarke to realize what was going on. 

“You slept with her.” It wasn’t a question.

“No – I mean, I –,” he muttered nervously, pulling away from Raven, who now eyed the pair curiously. “It was the night we had a huge fight, remember?”

Clarke scoffed, nearly laughing at how he could possibly think that was a viable excuse.

“Clarke, baby,” he cooed, reaching out put his hands on her shoulders, but she brushed them off immediately.

“Fuck off, Finn.” Her voice was sharp, low, and harsh. It made him step back, away from her. There was a look of desperation in his eyes, a longing she knew she couldn’t satisfy. A longing for something less than Clarke would give him, for something more than what she had. She shook her head again, smiling to herself, though tears rolled down her face. “Fuck right off.”

She walked back inside, with Raven trailing behind her and Finn kicking the tires of his car in anger and spewing curses at himself. Once inside, Raven immediately spun her around so she couldn’t disappear in the mazes of the hospital or the sea of endless patients.

“Clarke, I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I had no idea, I swear.” She seemed so sincere, so scared.

“I know,” Clarke assured her. “It’s… it’s honestly okay.” She broke into a weird half-sob, half-laugh that took Raven by surprise. She wasn’t ever the best at dealing with other people’s emotions (or her own), but she was pretty sure this wasn’t normal behavior.

“A-are you okay?” It seemed like the most idiotic question to ask, but she was legitimately unsure.

“I wasted over a fucking year with that asshole,” Clarke laughed, Raven nodding in agreement but brows still furrowed in confusion. “And then he goes and does this shit.” She threw her hands up in the air in disbelief, watching through the large front window as Finn recklessly drove away, leaving skid marks on the pavement. “And…” she sighed, leaning back against the nearby wall, as Raven gave her the most pitiful eyes. “And I didn’t feel a fucking thing,” she smiled ridiculously.

“What?”

“I… I never loved him,” she confessed, and it felt so fucking liberating to admit it. She let out another laugh. “I never loved him.” They were the truest words she’d ever said, and she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t realized the undeniable truth behind them before. “What a fucking relief,” she giggled dumbly, as Raven nervously joined in.

“So, uh… everything is okay?” Clarke nodded, pulling her new friend into an embrace. Raven hesitated, but was pulled into Clarke’s chest rather enthusiastically. “I take it I’m still invited to O’s next party?”

* * *

Clarke and Raven showed up at Lincoln and Octavia’s around nine, hauling grocery bags upon grocery bags of booze. They greeted the couple, before setting up the drinks in the kitchen. There were already a few guests there with red solo cups in their hands, scattered throughout the living room.

“Thank god you’re here,” Octavia said. “People are getting bored of beer.”

Lincoln, who was significantly older than the girls, stood beside Octavia, his hands in his pockets as if afraid to get in the way. He wasn’t much of a party person himself, but he’d married one. Clarke had originally felt pretty bad for him, since he had to deal with party upon party upon party (most of them at their house, since theirs was the largest) nearly every single weekend. Now, looking at him, smiling down at Octavia, a look a pure love in his eyes, she somehow began to understand.

The party went on like any other, with unbearably loud music and an unlimited supply of alcohol. As everyone either danced, fucked, or smoked, Clarke sat at the edge of an open window, feet on the fire escape. She twirled a cigarette in between her fingers, before placing it between her lips. It was a habit her mom hated and had characterized as “hypocritical behavior for someone in the medical field”. She didn’t care. Her job was to take of others, not of herself.

Her phone was set on silent, though the screen lit up every two minutes, notifying her that Finn had either called or texted. She didn’t reply to either.

She breathed out smoke through her nose and into the cold D.C. air. It was a chilly night, but she didn’t mind it. She enjoyed the way the wind felt against her skin, the blonde fuzz on her arms perking up. The sky above her was cloudy and dark, so she couldn’t see any stars like she’d originally hoped to. Still, the lights spread across the horizon, depicting the busy city, made her feel calm.

Lincoln had chosen this house because it was at walking distance from the hospital, so he and Octavia wouldn’t ever be late.

“In other words, so you have time for morning sex,” Clarke had joked to Octavia, who had simply smirked and shrugged her shoulders.

Now, looking out at the city before her, she could see the rooftop of the hospital poking out from amongst the shorter buildings.

“Hey,” Raven said, sitting on the windowsill next to her. “You okay?” She’d kept asking her that same question since their encounter with Finn the day before. Clarke knew it was because she still felt guilty, so she didn’t mind. She nodded her head, offering Raven a cigarette, but she refused it. They sat in silence, Raven fidgeting with her wristwatch, while Clarke watched the smoke slip from her lips and into the night.

“You two are awfully glum,” Octavia complained, putting her arms around them both and her head in between them, resting on Clarke’s right shoulder and Raven’s left. “Where’s Finn?”

“Ugh,” Clarke groaned. “We’re over.”

“Finally!” Octavia cheered, pushing the two aside so she could sit in between them. Thank god for Lincoln’s affinity towards big ass windows. Clarke shoved her playfully and the three girls laughed.

“Damn right,” Clarke agreed. “Feels like Spring cleaning.”

“Why are you so sad then?” Octavia asked, stealing a cigarette from Clarke.

“Who says I’m sad?” Octavia rolled her eyes.

“Dude, I’ve known you since third grade,” she reminded her. “I know when you’re fucking sad.” Octavia cursed a lot when she was drunk. Actually, Octavia cursed a lot all the time. “Now what’s wrong?”

Clarke shrugged, looking back at the hospital. She could only make out the barred windows on very top floor, which gave her no actual view of what was inside the building. It was way past lights out, and the hospital was covered in darkness, except for a few offices. She knew she couldn’t see Lexa’s room from where she sat, though, because not only was it on the first floor, but it faced the opposite street.

“What did it feel like when you met Lincoln?” she asked. “I mean… did you know from the start that you’d fall in love?”

Octavia was silent for a moment, taking in long smoky breaths, before she replied.

“Bellamy had just gotten his job as a guard at the hospital,” she began, more for Raven than for Clarke, since the blonde had already heard the story multiple times. “I went to pick him up because his truck was in the shop, but the dumbass wouldn’t pick up his phone. I had to go in there myself.”

“And you crashed into Lincoln,” Clarke completed the story, flicking the bud of her cigarette onto the fire escape. There were already dozens on the ground from all the previous nights the two best friends had spent talking well into the daybreak.

“Such a fucking cliché,” Octavia groaned. “Straight out of a rom-com.” They giggled mindlessly, and for a moment they felt like they were back in college, smoking on the rooftop of their dorm building and laughing about boys. They were happy to have gained a member. Raven, who hadn’t gone to college for lack of time, money, and familial support, felt like – with her newfound friendships – she would finally be able catch up on what she’d missed.

“But did you know, O?” Clarke asked again.

“That I would end up married to him? Of course not,” she laughed. “But… I knew _something._ I couldn’t put a name on it, and I didn’t really try to.” She shrugged her shoulders. “There was just something different about him… It felt like the universe was pulling us together, no matter how badly we tried to stay away. It felt like I’d known him before. Like I’d missed him all my life, but was just then finally remembering him…”

“You’re a fucking sap,” Clarke teased, making the two girls erupt into more drunken giggles.

Octavia decided that that was enough seriousness for one night and dragged them back inside to dance. They obeyed eagerly, with the condition that they’d get an immediate refill on their drinks. Lincoln and Bellamy joined them, the former a notorious heavy drinker and the latter an undeniable lightweight. Less than an hour later and Lincoln was carrying Bellamy fireman-style over to the guest room.

“Ugh, Bell,” Octavia groaned, watching as his limp body was thrown over the bed. “I specifically told him to take it easy tonight so Clarke and Raven could stay in that room.” Lincoln walked up to her, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head.

“It’s fine,” Raven assured her, already starting to slur her words. “I should go anyway. Dr. Lincoln here wants me at the hospital first thing in morning to fix the – uh…”

“The heating system,” Lincoln reminded her. “Winter’s just around the corner, but I’m sure you still have a few more days. Don’t sweat it.”

“Aye, aye cap’n!” She saluted him goofily.

“Clearly, I should still probably take you home,” Clarke laughed and they all agreed.

It was well past three in the morning, when Clarke and Raven stumbled out of Octavia’s front door.

“Wait,” her best friend begged, pulling Clarke’s hand, not wanting to let her leave yet. “At least let Lincoln drive you home.”

“Fine,” she sighed, before pulling her friend into a hug. Octavia reached out to grab Raven by her red leather jacket, to pull her into the embrace as well.

* * *

 They dropped Raven off first, driving past the hospital on their way. Clarke, sitting in the passenger seat, had her face pressed up against the window, trying to make sense of the blurs that zoomed past.

“I heard you and Octavia are going to Florida,” she said at a red light, turning over to look at Lincoln.

“I thought you were asleep,” he chuckled. 

"And Octavia thinks she's a good liar."  She shrugged. "I guess the perfect couple has their little flaws after all," she joked. She didn't mean for it to come out sounding so bitter, but it did. The truth was that she was envious of the fact that they had found each other - their soul mate, their better half, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it - and so easily as well. Clarke had burned through boyfriends and girlfriends and non binary-friends, and still she knew she hadn't felt a fraction of what she saw between Octavia and Lincoln. It wasn't like she was looking for her soulmate, though. She wasn't sure she even believed in that kind of stuff. But something had changed lately, and she didn't know what that something was.

 It had begun to rain, so Clarke decided to follow the raindrops with her eyes as they fell onto her window.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that actually," Lincoln said.

"About what?" The drops rolled slowly, then crashed into new ones, gaining speed, until they plummeted to the bottom of the glass. Clarke thought of shooting stars.

"I'm going to the D.C. Board of Medicine to see how the movement against gay conversion therapy is going," he explained. "I've got a buddy there who might be able to help it gain some more momentum." 

"That's amazing," she said sincerely, turning back to him with a giant grin. "Wait - does Pike know?" 

"No, and I'm counting on you to make sure it stays that way."

"Of course," she assured him. "This is an incredibly opportunity, Lincoln." 

He smiled proudly to himself, pulling up to Clarke's driveway. Before she could get out, he turned off the car and faced her. 

"There's only three people who know about this: you, Octavia, and Lexa."

Clarke froze at the mention of the brunette's name. It seemed so random, so out of place - the sudden reminder of Lexa's existence made her feel inexplicably nervous. 

" _Lexa_ Lexa?" she muttered, "Like... _Lexa Woods_ Lexa?" He nodded.

"She's a really special case, you know?" Clarke furrowed her brow, her hazy mind trying to make sense of the words. 

"Special how?" 

"I can't say much," Lincoln frowned, and Clarke understood. "I just think something more is going on than what's at face value." He sighed, defeated. "I'll figure it out, but in the meantime I need to make sure she feels safe. Starting with getting rid of the gay conversion therapy bullshit." Clarke had never heard Lincoln swear in her life. She was impressed. 

"Why are you telling me, though?" 

"You care about her," he said and the words shook her like they'd been her verdict and she'd been convicted to the chair. Her mouth was dry, her palms sweaty, and her stomach turning. She felt sick. 

"I do," she confessed, her voice coming out a lot more passionate and aching than either of them had expected. 

"I just want you to keep an eye on her while I'm gone." Clarke nodded enthusiastically, but she felt terribly dizzy moments later as a consequence. 

"I'll take care of her," Clarke promised, and though the words came out slow and slurred, she meant them. They were more of a confession - the acceptance of an unavoidable fate. 

* * *

Clarke spent the entire day of Sunday in bed, sleeping, groaning, and sleeping some more. Her head throbbed, her body ached, and her throat burned from the alcohol she’d spewed back up into the toilet bowl that morning. She curled up into a ball, blankets over her head, trying to shield herself from the light that seeped into her room through her white curtains.

Sick to her stomach and too hungover to take care of herself, she still thought of Lexa. Of her conversation with Lincoln the night before – one she was lucky hadn’t been corrupted by the blurring effects of alcohol.  She wondered if it was so obvious that she cared more for this particular patient than any of the others. Granted, Lincoln had the advantage of being able to psycho-analyze her better than any of her friends, but how could something so simple slip her own understanding? While she was too busy trying to force herself to fall in love with Finn, she was already developing feelings for someone else.

She groaned loudly into her pillow, her face buried into it. She felt so idiotic in more ways than one. Lexa was a patient. Except she wasn’t, was she? _Committed for homosexuality,_ Clarke scoffed to herself. Surely, that couldn’t count as an actual diagnosis, could it? She _was_ an official patient, which meant she was entirely (and _legally)_ off limits. She groaned even louder, realizing how fucked she actually was. _Why didn’t I realize this sooner? I could have stopped it. I could have avoided her. I –._ Clarke’s thoughts were cut short by the memory of Octavia’s words.

“It felt like the universe was pulling us together, no matter how badly we tried to stay away.” Was that what this was? Was it the universe playing a sick joke on Clarke Griffin, as if it hadn't already caused her enough trouble? She groaned some more.

* * *

 On Monday, she walked into the hospital with a knot in her stomach. Considering Lexa had walked out on her so abruptly after their chess match, she was pretty sure she wouldn't be up for another one that day. Instead, she decided to take her lunch break in the art room, so she could get rid of all this incessant stress.

To say her plan backfired would be an understatement. 

Clarke watched the brunette nearly tear off the old apron she'd been wearing, throwing it to the side, before rushing out the door. She didn't fully understand why Lexa was acting so distant, but she somehow felt like she deserved it. Turning to look at Lexa’s painting, she found it strangely calming. A brown circle seemed to reach out from the center, spiraling into yellow and blue. There was a light shade of green, spiking out from the brown, meeting the ends of the blue strokes. She couldn’t put a name to the image nor the feeling it enveloped her in, but still she found her cheeks wet with tears.

* * *

She spent the rest of the day wandering the halls and making sure patients stayed out of trouble. She also made it a point to avoid the gardens, as she assumed Lexa didn't want to see her. She didn't know why it bothered her so much that Lexa had been suddenly pushing her away, but it did. Maybe it was because she had finally realized that their connection could be more than just platonic, when Lexa had decided completely threw that idea out the window.

Up until that day in the game room, Clarke had felt like she was on the same page as Lexa - granted, of a book she didn't know the title of - but on the same page, nonetheless. Now, she had no idea where Lexa stood, only that it clearly wasn't where Clarke had thought.

She put her hands in her pockets and accepted the fact that maybe Lexa wasn't her Lincoln - it was a stupid notion anyway, and she felt stupid for even entertaining the possibility.

"Clarke," Jasper called out, jogging up to catch up with her. 

"Hey, Jasper," she sighed sadly. He picked up on it.

"Hey, don't worry. I'm sure your friend is fine," he assured her. "Indra might be trained to kill and all, but she's a total softie."

"What are you talking about?" She was more annoyed than anything else at this point. 

"That girl Lexa," he explained. "You didn't hear?" Clarke stopped in her tracks, pulling on Jasper's arm so he faced her. 

"What happened?" 

* * *

Indra had committed herself into the hospital and had no history of any violent or aggressive behavior - even considering her self-diagnosed PTSD from the war - so no one had thought twice about letting her wander about the hospital amongst defenseless patients. She hadn't done any massive damage to Lexa, as Jasper had assured her, but Clarke still rushed through the hallways towards the medical wing. She blamed herself - for letting Lincoln clear her for unsupervised socialization, for not being in the gardens, for not being there for Lexa. She knew she was being way too harsh on herself - ridiculous even - but there was a feeling in her chest that couldn't let her breathe unless she saw for herself that Lexa was okay. 

She wasn't sure how many lives Indra had ended, but by the look in her dark eyes, she could tell it was more than she'd ever be okay with. It occurred to her that Lexa could have easily been added to that long list of unlucky souls, had Indra not been so merciful. It made Clarke feel completely terrified. She could have lost Lexa - in an instant, all the infinite possibilities and paths they could have taken together (whether as soul mates or friends or enemies) would have been reduced to absolutely none. And she couldn't let that happen.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I didn't include the kiss through Clarke's POV, but I could add it to the beginning of the next chapter if y'all want me to. Otherwise, chapter 6 will pick up where chapter 5 left off. 
> 
> Remember to leave comments/kudos!
> 
> Contact me at: savagesacrifices.tumblr.com/ask


	6. Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to note that the reason I made Clarke a smoker is because Eliza Taylor looks insanely hot when she's smoking/vaping. 
> 
> This chapter starts off right where chapter four left off. Half of the chapter or so is in Lexa's point of view, while the last bit is in Clarke's. 
> 
> Thanks for the comments/kudos! Enjoy...

The next day, Lexa was released from that small, white, suffocating room.

“Nurse Octavia went on holiday,” a nurse she’d never seen before explained, but Lexa hadn’t really listened. “If you start feeling ill, you come back right.”

She hadn’t listened to anything for a while. The small TV in the upper right corner of the room had droned on about the latest storm taking over D.C. for the last hour and a half, but she hadn’t heard a single thing. The heavy rain, the thunder, the lightning, the flickering lights – it was all background noise.

The memory of Clarke’s lips on hers was louder than anything else. Like shooting a gun in a metal crate, the sound echoed infinitely, bouncing back and forth off the walls – this endless noise – this loud shadow of Clarke Griffin – it made her deaf to nearly anything else. Nearly.

She filled her thoughts with Indra’s words, as if repeating them over and over would magically decipher them. It was all she could really do – to focus on something she still had hopes of understanding.

It was a Tuesday, so she didn’t have group therapy. Plus, Lincoln had gone to the talk with the Board, so Lexa assumed she’d have the entire day to herself. As a way of both staying sane and avoiding Clarke, her first order of business was to find Indra. She didn’t remember their encounter in vivid details – more of a blur of emotions, the singular sound of words that hung in the air, the hardness of the concrete, and the smell of her own blood.

She touched the back of her head gently, and though the damage had been minor, the pain meds were wearing off and she began to feel a stabbing pain where her fingertips grazed. She didn’t mind it. If anything, it fueled her. It made that odd moment with Indra that more real.

Her first instinct was to go out into the gardens – to that same bench she’d last seen her – but it was still raining, so none of the patients were allowed outside. Many huddled up against the large windows in the common room, patiently waiting for the sky to clear up (despite the nurses telling them over and over that this raging storm was predicted to last the entire week).

She scanned the room quickly, but saw no sign of Indra (or of Clarke).

“Look who’s back from the dead,” she heard Jasper say. Turning around she found him sprawled out on a couch, his feet resting on Monty’s lap, whose head was thrown back with eyes closed and a loud snore escaping him. “The rain relaxes him,” Jasper explained.

“I can see that.” She didn’t recognize her voice – it was so cold, so distant. She wondered if this place was slowly killing her – replacing her with someone new, someone worse. “Do you know where Indra is?” she asked, almost desperately, afraid that if she stayed, she’d never remember how to move again.

“She’s in solitary. Doc’s gonna go in and ‘re-diagnose’ her.” He made air quotes with his fingers, a stupid grin still plastered on his face. “Why? You looking for a rematch?” He laughed at his own joke, right as a thunderclap roared straight overhead. The patients rushed around helplessly, some screaming in fear until they were quieted down. “I keep telling the nurses to just fucking sedate us!” He screamed the last three words angrily, and Lexa understood they weren’t directed at her, but at the staff that surrounded them, trying to keep the anxious patients at bay.

“Where’s solitary?” Lexa asked, trying to bring Jasper back to the conversation.

“Never been,” he shrugged, before going back to yelling obscenities at people who were far too patient with him. She began to grow aggravated, which he seemed to notice. “Ask Clarke,” he suggested, as if to shift the rest of the conversation to someone else.

Groaning, Lexa continued her search through the hospital. There were signs and arrows painted across the walls, but none of them led her to where she needed to go. The more she walked, the more distraught and hopeless she felt. And the thundering storm above them seemed to mimic her, as the rain grew even heavier. Even deep in the depths of this maze-like hospital, she could still hear the wind howling eerily outside, and the water banging against the windows.

The lights flickered, until they completely went out, leaving the entire building in a dark shade of gray for a few moments. Lexa leaned back against the nearest wall, waiting impatiently for the backup generators to kick in. At the end of the hallway, she saw a bright light approaching. A tiny spec of light that slowly grew larger, closer. At this tranquil sight, she felt herself become enveloped in complete silence. A soft, gentle silence that gave her back the air in her lungs. She stepped closer, following the light like a moth – following that bright flash in the darkness, that small spark in a sea of gray. 

A loud whirring sound filled the building, as dim lights turned on. A few feet in front of her, she found Clarke.

“Lexa.” There was a shakiness in her voice that Lexa wasn’t familiar with. “Are you all right?” She eyed her carefully, noticing the flashlight in her hands.

“I’m okay,” she replied, her voice filling the calm silence that had remained. She cocked her head to the side, furrowing her brow, as she wondered to herself why that was. At the sight of Clarke, she’d assumed those raging sounds inside her head would have been amplified until they hurt – and yet here they were, and the world felt as quiet as ever.

“You’re not supposed to be in here, you know,” Clarke smiled shyly, and Lexa noticed how her blue eyes seemed to avoid hers. It was strange seeing her so uneasy, so vulnerable – and because of Lexa, no less. It almost frightened her in a way she wasn’t capable of understanding.

“You’re not supposed to kiss your patients,” she replied, her voice soft and nothing close to a reprimand. She didn’t want to make her more uncomfortable, but she needed to make things real again. She needed those words to hang between them, so Clarke could either deny or accept them. So she’d know whether it was all in her head. To know if any of it had actually happened.

Clarke looked up, meeting her eyes at last, with a flush of red on her cheeks. Even now, in the bleakest of lights, she looked unfathomably gorgeous.

“I know,” she whispered, her eyes big and teary. She didn’t cry, though. Instead, she sniffled, looked down at her feet, and carefully added, “I’m sorry.”

Lexa couldn’t keep her eyes off of her – it was as if she was seeing her again for the first time. She felt mesmerized by the way her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, the way her hands fidgeted at her sides, the way her bottom lip anxiously found itself beneath her teeth. She was beautiful, and it made Lexa dizzy just to think about the fact that they had kissed. Still, with Clarke, a nervous apologetic mess, in front of her, it felt surreal.

“Why did you?” she asked, genuinely curious. It seemed to catch Clarke off guard, as the blonde chuckled wryly, incredulously.

“You don’t know?” she asked like it was the most obvious thing, as she looked up at her again. Lexa shook her head. “Because… well, I –” She burst out into nervous laughter, her hands coming up to tangle frustratingly into her own blonde locks. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me say it?” She was bright red and adorable.

Her hands came back down to bury themselves in the pockets of her scrubs, as she balanced herself on her heels.

“I want to know,” Lexa said, encouragingly, stepping a little closer to Clarke. The blonde noticed this slight change and grew stiff, eyes wild until they settled on Lexa’s. They seemed to find a certain calmness there.

“I have… _feelings._ ” She cringed at the word like it tasted sour in her mouth.

“Feelings?” Lexa repeated, trying it out for herself. Clarke nodded, biting her lower lip again, and Lexa found herself struggling not to move any closer. She failed.

“Feelings for _you_ ,” Clarke whispered, her breath hitching mid-sentence as Lexa stepped even closer. They were still a foot away from each other, but suddenly it felt like the air had been set on fire around them. This three-word confession made Lexa’s head spin faster than their actual kiss had.

Her green eyes fell down to gaze upon Clarke’s lips, and she wondered what would happen if she leaned in. She wondered if it would feel any different, or just as intoxicating as it did the last time. She wondered if she’d still taste like vanilla-caramel coffee, or something even sweeter.

“You’re right though,” Clarke sighed defeated, stepping back. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Lexa shook her head, even though Clarke’s gaze had once again left her. She wanted to protest – say that she didn’t mean that; that she had feelings for her too. But before Lexa could voice her defiance, Clarke added, “I would get fired if anyone found out.”

“Oh.” And just like that all of her words were swallowed back down, all of her hope burnt out as fast as it had lit up – and everything she’d ever hoped to have with Clarke was reduced to that simple monosyllable: _Oh._

* * *

“No one’s found out, right?” She heard the panic in her own voice and felt slightly embarrassed about it.

“Of course not,” Lexa assured her, and with that Clarke could breathe again.

“Thanks,” she said simply, giving the brunette a quick and playful wink before flushing red yet again. She needed to stop doing that. At an attempt to quickly change the subject, she asked, “Why _are_ you here, though? This wing is off limits for patients.”

“I was looking for solitary,” she confessed. “I need to talk to Indra.”

“Lexa, no,” Clarke said, immediately, her chest tightening in an unexpected rush of anxiety. She didn’t know much about Indra, except that she had been trained to kill and had an apparent dislike for Lexa. Those two things were enough to cause a panic in her.

“Clarke,” Lexa began, but she knew those green eyes would work their magic and convince her one way or another, so she didn’t give her time.

She grabbed Lexa’s arm, spun her around, and urged her to move back down the hallway. Lexa, protesting, pulled Clarke back, and the blonde, not expecting such a sudden bout of strength, collided back into Lexa’s chest. “Fuck.” The word came out of habit, as a mere whisper, an exasperation.

“Sorry.” Lexa stepped back, leaving some room between them. “But I need to speak with her.”

Clarke’s hand trailed down Lexa’s arm, until she felt long, delicate fingers intertwine with hers.

“Lexa, she could have killed you,” Clarke argued, but her voice grew gentle, as she felt too caught up in the way her hand fit perfectly in hers.

“Except that she didn’t, Clarke,” Lexa pointed out, and she realized for the first time how different her name sounded in her voice – how the K was more pronounced, how the single word seemed strong and sharp, yet flowed so delicately from her lips. It made her feel important.

“Why do you even want to talk to her?”

“Right before she knocked me out, she said something to me,” Lexa explained, leaning in closer and lowering her voice to mere whispers even though the hallway remained otherwise empty. “She said stuff about – about my dad, a-and my, uh…” She hesitated nervously, a hand coming up to touch her wrist and Clarke understood.

Unlocking their hands, Clarke’s fingers grazed upwards, over Lexa’s scar. It was then that she remembered what Lincoln had told her just a few days prior; his suspicions of something deeper going on with Lexa – was this a part of that?

“It’s okay,” Clarke whispered back, reassuringly. “I can help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave comments/Kudos!
> 
> Visit my tumblr for fic updates and headcanons: savagesacrifices.tumblr.com
> 
> Sneek peek for next chapter:   
> \- Indra  
> \- Sexual tension  
> \- Pining, pining, pining...


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